A PHONE CALL AWAY STUDENTS STUMPED BY THEIR HOMEWORK NOW CAN DIAL FOR HELP.

It's Carlos on the other end of the telephone line. Again. The poor kid just can't seem to grasp division. It's 6 p.m. and the third time he has called that night.

Welcome to the world of Homework Hotline, Palm Beach County School District style.

It is a world available two hours nightly, on Monday through Thursday, to help students struggling with their homework.

If you cannot figure out that calculus equation, why the Civil War erupted or the definition of a split infinitive, call the hot line.

Students do. Lots of them. In fact, about 3,500 dialed in during the 1987-88 school year.

If you plan to dial for a quick answer, put down the receiver. The five- member hot line crew members will not spill out answers. Their mission is to help you figure out the right answer, not do your homework for you.

All five hot-line instructors are district teachers who complete a full day in the classroom and journey to a cramped office in West Palm Beach to staff phones from 5 to 7 p.m. from student callers.

The hot-line office is no bigger than a college dormitory -- and much more primitive. There are six phones, five mismatched chairs and two walls framed by book shelves made of wood and concrete block stacked with teacher edition books for every class, elementary through high school.

Need an advanced calculus book? It's there, top shelf, left side. How about elementary reading books? Next wall, center.

Need the bathroom? Sorry, it's around the corner, through the door on the left and up two steps.

But back to Carlos.

Grove Park Elementary School teacher Joanne Haigh cups the phone to her ear as she flips to the math page assigned to Carlos.

We don't know Carlos' last name. That's not important to the hot-line operators. What is important is helping students figure out homework problems.

Together, Carlos and Haigh realize that Carlos has problems with remainders.

"Remember, the remainder can never be larger than the number you're dividing," Haigh says. "See? That's your problem -- you're not dividing enough. Call me back when you get the rest of them answered."

In the meantime, Abdul Shiekh, a permanent substitute teacher for the district, displays his versatility. He helped a third-grader with a science question on energy and a high school student struggling with an algebra assignment.

Forest Hill High School English teacher Julie Gilman and Conniston Junior High School history teacher Don Inscoe face a slow night. Not many calls. The fifth hot-line operator -- Angela Williams works the line two days a week.

When time permits, says Inscoe, the crew directs questions to the teacher who specializes in that area. If not, then an English teacher fields a math question.

"Sometimes, the phone rings every 30 seconds and sometimes, we get five or six calls a night," Inscoe says. "Sometimes, a call can take 30 to 45 minutes to answer. If you're not busy, you can really spend the time to help a kid."

Sure, younger children sometimes giggle and accidently drop the phone and of course, there's a few crank calls and hang-ups, but the homework hot-line operators take it all in stride.

"Some call you up when they're eating, or the worst thing is call waiting," Haigh says.

"This is great for kids whose parents don't grasp a concept or maybe, both work," Gilman added. "Students know if they get stuck on a problem between 5 and 7, they can call."

Eleven minutes pass and the phone rings. It's Carlos, again.

Haigh smiles as she listens to Carlos rattle off his division answers.

"Very good, super, Carlos! Okay, what about the next one? Excellent!" proclaims Haigh. "All right, Carlos, you got them all right. Give yourself a pat on the back."

She pauses a moment.

"What's that? Of course, now you can go outside and have a good time. Goodbye."